Celia Capace - Header - name


K C looked like a friendly garden gnome when I first set eyes on him.  Not in the sense that he wore brightly coloured hats, big shoes and hung around gardens. I mean he was very petite in stature, with a shock of white hair and the brightest animated eyes I'd ever encountered. I had to stop myself from patting him on the head on our first introduction. Yes, patronising can be a flaw of mine.  

This exterior of the man belied the interior of a canny businessman. An entrepreneur who was fair to his employees, took no nonsense from anyone, and knew what he was doing when it came to running a happy, healthy, successful business. When K C made money everyone made money.  He paid the highest salaries in the brothel industry and bonuses were reasonable and easy to reach. He was one of the best bosses I had the pleasure to work for in the 12 years I worked as a brothel manager.

K C owned Huge Luxurious Brothel, not it's real name, but the decor suited the one I have chosen. All brothels and characters mentioned will be under another alias to protect the guilty, including me. The stigma that comes attached is felt by all associated with brothels. I soon learnt justifying my job to the clueless was futile.

Huge Luxurious Brothel was approximately ten minutes drive from the city of Melbourne. We always knew to prepare for major events such as Grand Prix, international acts, sporting events or any other major event, when seven staff members would hit the ground running. Not that business was bad during the down times either.

K C had put Huge Luxurious Brothel on the stock exchange making sure he maintained the majority of shares. This resulted in Huge Luxurious Brothel becoming world renowned. K C had, pretty much, advertised to the world that an 18 room luxury brothel existed legally. A few fellows even arrived on our doorstep directly from the airport, luggage still in hand, not bothering to have checked into accommodation first.

On those busy nights we seven staff consisted of two managers, two hostesses, laundry employee, security guy and bar employee. In the state of Victoria, Australia no alcohol was allowed on brothel premises. Therefore, bar employee was a loose term for someone who served free coffees, water, soft drink and an imitation beer that we’ll call “Tastes Like Piss” since that was what was most commonly uttered once one took a sip.

On weekends and predicted busy nights we had up to 30 or more femme fatales on shift yet we could still be understaffed due to booking extensions and escorting. Once the madness came to an end, usually the weekend drawing to a close, K C, if in town,  would gather us to convey his thanks with a celebratory drink of his favourite rum. It was after hours and behind closed doors for, as previously stated, no alcohol was really permitted. Each employee was given two fingers full, if that, and no money was exchanged. I'm not a big drinker and detest the taste of rum. Not wanting to offend or to dampen the high spirits of all, I now apologise profusely to that plant that died a slow death of alcohol poisoning.

I was fortunate to have spent my time as a manager at Huge Luxurious Brothel in 2005 when the brothel industry was still in its heyday. The internet was still new and mysterious, however, we knew then that the internet would eventually affect the brothel industry. Little did we know to what degree. What use was a place to go to for sex when it could now come to you?